


The Most Fun You'll Ever Make

by heliocentricity



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Build-A-Bear, Comedy, Established Relationship, Multi, No Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliocentricity/pseuds/heliocentricity
Summary: During his gap year, Victor Frankenstein picks up a job at Build-a-Bear and accidentally brings one of the stuffed toys to life.
Relationships: Elizabeth Lavenza/Justine Moritz, Henry Clerval/Victor Frankenstein
Comments: 37
Kudos: 55





	1. A Day in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this wacky story for months and decided that now is finally the time to start sharing it. Maybe my motivation stems from the stuffed animal I've been sewing together these past few days? :O Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have as good a time reading this as I've had writing it! :)

“Has everyone got their bears?”

A chorus of excited children left Victor Frankenstein’s ears ringing.

“Alright, then. Now pick a heart from this bucket – Hey, no shoving! You’ll all get a turn.” Victor held his breath and tried not to flinch as half a dozen grubby hands flew toward him. “Now, once you’ve gotten your hearts–”

“But I don’t want a plain red one!” a kid in a Pikachu hoodie wailed. “Why does she get the cool pattern?”

“Do you want a plaid heart, too?” Victor asked. “Here.” He tossed one to the Pikachu impersonator, who missed the catch and had to fumble on the floor for it. “Now, as I was saying, once you’ve gotten your hearts, it’s time to—”

“Can I get a different one?” a kid in basketball shorts spoke up. “Mine has a hole in it.”

“Sometimes, hearts are broken, and we just have to deal with it. Now, take your hearts, hold them in your fist like this, and close your eyes. Take fifteen seconds to think only good thoughts – silently. Pour all your love into the heart, so your bears will know they’re loved.” 

“But mine has a hole in it!” the basketball kid insisted. “And I’m making a dog, not a bear.”

Victor groaned and passed them a new heart, rephrasing his sentence to include all species of stuffed toys. This was the sort of nonsense he had to put up with three days a week: children arguing over scraps of fabric and yelling about whose stuffed animal was the cutest. 

Quite frankly, Victor had never seen the appeal of stuffed animals. They were lifeless clumps of stuffing that judged people with their beady, button eyes, yet kids treated them like they were beloved pets. Victor supposed it was an exciting twist that Build-A-Bear tried to will the creatures to life, but the process wasn’t exactly scientific. Not only did it involve an awful lot of wishful thinking, but the hearts weren’t even anatomically correct! 

Victor gazed out over the sea of children, praying for a plush miracle that would never come, when he noticed a familiar face by the store window. Victor waved to get his attention, and when Henry Clerval caught his eye and smiled, Victor felt his own heart skip a beat. 

Henry was Victor’s childhood friend – and since last summer, his boyfriend – who worked next door at Brookstone’s, and on wonderful days like this, their work schedules overlapped. It was the thought of Henry existing nearby that gave Victor the courage to put up with this horrendously juvenile job. In fact, when Victor’s father had first suggested he get a job at the local mall, Victor had been dismissive of the idea. He was not the type of person to willingly go out into large, noisy crowds or places with considerable amounts of children. But when Henry had mentioned that he had just accepted a job offer at Brookstone’s… Well then, that had changed Victor’s mind pretty quickly. 

A nearby cough reminded him that he had a small horde of children waiting on him for instructions. The sooner he “animated’ their stuffed toys, the sooner he could take his lunch break and spend time with Henry. He took a deep breath and readied himself for Build-A-Bear: a speed-run. 

. . .

Half-an-hour later, Victor was sitting with Henry in the mall’s spacious foyer, which felt more like the opening wing of a museum than a shopping complex. The windowed ceiling arched high overhead, letting in cascades of mid-afternoon light, and the rows of gigantic potted plants rustled in the artificial breeze of the building’s air-conditioning unit. 

There had been no available tables at the food court, which Victor supposed was to be expected on a Saturday. So, he and Henry had found an open space along the rim of the central fountain, next to a brightly-lit kiosk selling phone cases and a group of suspiciously empty strollers.

“It’s William’s birthday next Tuesday, right?” Henry asked. 

Victor nodded, staring into the fountain and watching the water ripple over the coppery sheen of pennies carpeting the bottom. He wondered how much money was down there and if he could spend his time in the mall fishing them out one-by-one, as opposed to working in the hell hole known as Build-A-Bear. 

“I’m still not sure what I should get him,” Henry confessed. “He likes reading, but I know there are plenty of books he hasn’t touched on his shelf, and I don’t want to add to that pile. What about video games? He goes through those very fast. Would Alphonse mind if I bought him another?”

Victor waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about my dad. He’s never been too strict on screen-time limits – at least, not with William. And whatever gift you pick out, William’s sure to love. That kid practically worships the ground you walk on. You could give him a used candy wrapper, and he’d be obsessed.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Oh, candy! That’s a great idea! I could decorate a bag with streamers and fill it with all of his favorites. Does he prefer chocolate or sweets?”

“I prefer chocolate, thanks for asking.”

“Victor.” Henry furrowed his eyebrows in an effort to look serious, and Victor faked a cough to hide his smile. 

“William prefers sour candy. Get him some of those rainbow-colored streamers and a pack of sour straws, and he’ll be happy as a clam.” 

“Perfect.” Henry began rifling through his pockets. “Huh, I could’ve sworn I brought a pen with me today.”

“Want to use this complimentary Build-a-Bear pen?” Victor passed a plain blue marker to Henry. 

Henry inspected the writing on the side and frowned. “It doesn’t have the company logo on it?”

Victor shrugged. “OK, it’s not actually a complimentary Build-a-Bear pen. But it was there when I came into work today, and it’s mine now.”

Henry laughed, made a note on the back of his wrist, then returned the pen to Victor. “You should put it back so the owner can find it again,” he suggested. “Anyway, thanks for the tip. I’ll swing by the candy shop on my way home from work today. And speaking of work…” He glanced at the timer on his phone and said, “My break’s almost over. I should head back now.”

Henry stood up, and Victor followed suit. They kissed briefly, and every coherent thought in Victor’s head evaporated. He had assumed these side-effects would go away after he and Henry had kissed enough, but it had been just over a year, and Victor still felt floored every time Henry so much as smiled at him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Henry asked. 

Victor nodded, still dazed. “See you tomorrow,” he echoed. 

He watched Henry go until he was lost in the mall’s harsh luminescent lighting. Now that his time with Henry was over, what was there left to look forward to? With a reluctant sigh, Victor turned and headed back to Build-A-Bear.


	2. A Birthday Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor helps William celebrate his birthday at Build-a-Bear.

The following Tuesday, Victor was surprised to see his sister Elizabeth and her girlfriend Justine walk into Build-A-Bear during his morning shift. The two had started dating just over two years ago, and everyone in the Frankenstein family fawned over Justine – especially William, who claimed he was Justine’s favorite because she had been his baby-sitter once upon a time. 

“This isn’t the kind of place I expected to see you two spending your romantic Saturday morning,” Victor joked as the couple approached. 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, practically immune to Victor’s teasing after twenty years of dealing with him. 

Beside her, Justine smiled. “We’re here with someone very important,” she explained. “The man of the hour.”

Victor arched an eyebrow and looked around the store but could only see Elizabeth and Justine. “Is this for—” he started to say. 

He jumped as William tackled him from behind and locked him into a surprise hug. “Guess who?” William asked happily.

Even though it was William’s birthday, Victor could not pass up an opportunity to have a little fun with him. “Is that you, Dad?” he asked innocently. “It feels like you’ve gotten a little shorter.”

William snickered and said, "I'll give you a hint: It's your favorite brother!”

Victor spent a good ten seconds pretending to weigh his options. “Um, Ernest?”

Now, William was getting a little antsy. “Your OTHER favorite brother!”

Victor held his hands up as if in defeat. “Well, last time I checked, I only had the one, so...”

“What!” William let go and ducked under Victor’s arm so he stood in front of Elizabeth and Justine. “You can’t just forget about me like that!”

“Do I know you?” Victor squinted and rubbed at his eyes. “Your name starts with a W, right? Wallace or Wilbur or—”

“William!”

“Ah, right, right.” Victor winked at Elizabeth, who shook her head in disapproval and put a protective hand on William’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, Wilbur.”

“William!” he repeated. 

“Don’t mind your brother,” Elizabeth reassured him, turning her cold gaze on Victor as though daring him to mess with William again. “We’re here because William wanted to see you on his birthday. We told him you’d be home in time for cake, but he insisted.”

“I want to see where you work!” William declared. 

“It’s really not that exciting,” Victor assured him. “Just a bunch of stuffed animal skins and their overpriced accessories.”

Justine gasped. “How could you say that about Build-A-Bear? This place was my childhood!” She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I know! William, since you’re here today, we should make you a special birthday bear. It’s been ages since I’ve done this properly. You’ll help us, won’t you, Victor?”

Victor pointed to his name tag. “I’m kind of on duty at the moment.”

“As the only customers in this store right now, we’re your duty,” Elizabeth countered.

True enough, 10AM on a Tuesday was not the most popular time for bringing stuffed animals to life. Victor had been planning on spending his shift daydreaming about Henry and ignoring his unfinished grad school applications. He was a little miffed at having his plans disrupted, but he figured he could set aside some time for his favorite younger brother. 

He looked down at William and crossed his arms severely. “Alright, kiddo. You have five minutes to choose the best bear in this shop. Go.

. . .

“So, this is the one you picked out?” Victor asked ten minutes later.

“Mm-hmm!” William watched Victor eagerly, bouncing on the toes of his feet and glancing nervously at Justine, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up. 

Victor turned the brown pelt over in his hands, inspecting the seams and embroidered eyebrows. “Not bad, not bad. Curly fur, but not too long, so it probably won't shed everywhere. A classic chestnut brown, not too light. Marble eyes, only a little cloudy on the left-hand side.” He handed the bear back to William. “I’d say you’ve found yourself a winner.”

William’s eyes sparkled at the praise. “Really?”

“What can I say? You seem to have a knack for this sort of thing. Now follow me to the creation station.” Victor hated himself as he heard the rhyme aloud. He felt like he belonged on an episode of Blue’s Clues. 

Justine squeezed Elizabeth’s hand excitedly. “This is the most important part!” she whispered – only her whisper was so loud, Victor could hear it from several yards away. “You fill the bear with good thoughts and feelings of love, so they’ll be extra sweet and cuddly!”

“Yeah, well, the stuffing does most of the work,” Victor replied. 

He let William pick out a heart, making sure it was the sturdiest and most symmetrical of the bunch. 

“Can I get a voice-box, too?” William asked.

“Can you get a voice-box?” Victor echoed in disbelief. “It’s your birthday, kiddo. You can get whatever you want.”

William beamed, and Victor picked the most advanced voice-box the store offered. Structurally, it wasn’t any different from the simplest design, but it had the widest vocal range and the most phrases, which alternated every time the voice-box was activated. Victor placed it to the side and told William they would add it after the bear was stuffed. 

“Now, it’s time for the heart ceremony,” Victor explained.

Justine whooped, and Elizabeth pulled out her phone. 

“Wait a second. You better not be recording this, Liz,” Victor warned.

“Don’t worry about me,” Elizabeth replied. “Just focus on what you’re doing.”

Victor sighed. He would’ve argued with her and forced her to turn off the phone, if it weren’t for the way William was looking up at him expectantly. He told himself that he had to shove down his self-consciousness this one time, for William's sake. “Hold the heart in your fist like so,” Victor began, holding up his own hand to demonstrate. “Now close your eyes, and spend the next fifteen seconds thinking about your favorite thing in the world.” 

Victor counted down in his head, keeping his eyes closed so he could forget about Elizabeth filming him at his lowest. This was almost as bad as that time she recorded him at 3AM during his first finals week in college: coming down from a rush of caffeine, sprawled out on the dorm room floor, wearing nothing but a lab coat. He distracted himself from failures past and present with the thought of Henry and the hope that they might see each other at the house later that day. When the fifteen seconds had passed, Victor opened his eyes, and saw Henry standing several feet away, as though the heart ceremony had turned into a magic summoning ritual with real-time effects. He began choking as he inhaled too suddenly from the shock of it all.

“Henry!” William exclaimed, forgetting about the heart ceremony and throwing himself in for a hug. 

Henry ruffled William's hair affectionately. “I heard it was your birthday today, and I wanted to make sure I could deliver your present myself.” He smiled at Victor, who had stopped coughing and was now holding his breath as he waited for the burning in his lungs to pass. “I’m sorry for startling you at work,” he apologized. “I was going to visit William at home, but Ernest told me you were all here instead.” 

Victor shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s good to see you.”

“Did I interrupt something?”

“The most important part!” answered Justine. “This is the heart ceremony!”

Henry grinned. “I’ll just step back and let you two do your thing, then.”

Victor swallowed. It was bad enough that Elizabeth was saving this performance, but now that Henry was watching it in person… The way Victor saw it, he had two options. Either he could emphasize how much he did not want to be here and how embarrassing he found the whole thing… Or he could get into character and play the cheerful Build-a-Bear employee, for the first (and only) time in his life. If he went with the first option, he risked ruining an exciting part of William’s birthday. Not only would Henry hate to see William sad, but Victor couldn’t live with himself if he sabotaged this moment on purpose. 

So, Victor took a deep breath and braced himself to perform the most genuine and engaging heart ceremony he had ever conducted.


	3. The Heart Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor becomes a model employee for five whole minutes and presents William with a very special Build-a-Bear.

“Now, take the heart and rub it across your toes,” Victor instructed William. “That’s right. Really scrub it into your sneaker. This is going to give your bear coordination and the ability to walk upright.

“Next, take the heart and press it to each temple. Get some motion, and keep alternating for a few seconds. This is going to make your bear extra smart – so smart, it could even apply to medical school with me, if there were a medical school willing to accept stuffed animals as students. 

“Finally, hold the heart tight and raise it above your head. Now move it around! This is us raising a fist against God and teaching your bear to think for itself.”

William followed every detail of Victor’s instructions and mirrored each gesture enthusiastically. Victor felt like an evil puppet-master, or like some all-powerful Simon Says leader. It was kind of exhilarating, to be honest, and Victor realized he had wasted precious heart ceremonies by not making the kids do all manner of silly and outrageous things like this. 

When he glanced beyond William, Victor saw Henry laughing with Justine, one hand held before his mouth to stifle the noise. A heartbeat later, Victor caught Henry’s eye. Henry smiled and mouthed the words, “Good job!”

Victor felt his chest swell, and he stood up a little straighter. His two greatest achievements accomplished in the space of ten minutes: Not only did Victor make Henry laugh, but he had made Henry proud of him, too! He was a pretty good older brother, to do all this for William’s birthday, even if Elizabeth was filming him.

Oh, right. Suddenly, Victor felt the phone’s camera on him like a voyeuristic eye, and he felt himself begin to sweat. He had better conclude this heart ceremony, and fast. It was fun while it lasted.

“The last step,” Victor announced, “is to give your heart a kiss, so your bear knows there will always be someone out there who loves it.” 

William kissed the heart, but Victor felt too odd making out with his own hand in front of his sister and her girlfriend, so he turned around and got the stuffing machine ready instead. When William handed him the bearskin, Victor explained the process.

“Now, it’s your job to tell me when the bear is ready. More stuffing will make it stiffer, but if you don’t put enough in, it’ll be a floppy mess. So, find the balance, and let me know when it’s perfect for you.”

William nodded, taking his job as a re-animator very seriously. He asked Victor to stop the machine several times so he could feel the stuffed animal and appraise its readiness. Each time, he massaged the stuffing into its extremities and concluded that there was still room for more fluff. Just before they tied the whole thing up, Victor added the heart – on the left side of its chest for accuracy – and the voice-box – to the right-hand ear, for convenience. 

“William Frankenstein, I am proud to present you with the best creature to come out of this god-forsaken workshop.” 

He passed the bear to William, who beamed and hugged the plushie tightly to his chest. Victor frowned as he looked at it, the world suddenly feeling a little off-kilter, as though the floorboards beneath him were no longer stable. Something about the bear’s expression was off. The way the eyebrows tilted inward and the marble eyes refused to gleam made the bear look pensive and mournful. Wasn’t it supposed to be smiling? Although he would never say as much to William, Victor thought it had been much more appealing as a lifeless bag of fabric. 

. . . 

The rest of William’s birthday was less exciting. After the bear was brought to life, William opened Henry’s present and ate half the sour candy in one sitting. The ensuing sugar rush lasted until 8PM, when William collapsed on the couch back home and refused to eat any more sugar, turning down even his birthday cake. 

Henry couldn’t stay for the festivities and left to run errands soon after the heart ceremony. Victor was disappointed to see him go and spent the rest of his shift overthinking their interactions that morning. Had Henry really been impressed, or had the whole thing been too over-the-top for him? Victor tried to distract himself from these thoughts, but it was difficult, since he was forced to remain at the scene of the crime until his shift ended in the afternoon. 

William was back to his normal self the next day, recovering quickly and learning from his mistakes by spreading out the rest of the candy over the following week. Everything was business as usual, except not one of Victor’s shifts overlapped with Henry’s. They texted, sure, but Victor was extra miserable at work without him. What was the point of making small children jump up and down to animate motionless sacks of fur, if there was no boyfriend waiting to give Victor a hug and kiss afterward? 

Then, just over a week after William’s birthday, Victor was woken up in the middle of the night by William, hovering over his bed like some sort of avenging angel.

Victor cursed, then remembered he wasn’t supposed to curse in front of William and cursed again. Finally, he gathered his bearings, turned on the bedside lamp, and squinted up at his brother’s face in the half-light. William was trembling, and his face was scrunched up like he was trying hard to hold back tears. Victor sat up and reached out a tentative hand to his brother. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

William dodged the question and asked, “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Victor frowned. It had been years since William had last needed company like this. Maybe he was suffering from nightmares again, although Victor probably would have heard if that were the case. Their rooms shared a wall, and William often knocked against it in his sleep, especially when he was having bad dreams. 

Instinctively, he nodded and made room for William, who curled up under the covers gratefully. Victor kept the lamp on even though it irritated his eyes, because he knew that William didn’t like to sleep in total darkness. The kid fell asleep quickly for someone who looked so distressed, and Victor resolved to ask him what was wrong in the morning, before he left for work.


	4. William's Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor discovers what's been bothering William at night.

The next day, Victor questioned William over breakfast about what had left him so upset the night before. He waited until both Ernest and Alphonse left, in case William didn’t want the story to spread. At first, Victor was afraid that his brother would dodge the question entirely, but after a minute of mulling it over, he found the words to speak.

“Strange things have been happening in my room lately,” he admitted. “In the middle of the night, when no one else is around, I hear weird noises and books falling over when I haven’t even touched them… Then, there's this feeling that something’s watching me…” He shivered. “I’m afraid my room is haunted, by some sort of ghost. Do you know if anyone's died in this house?”

Victor shook his head and fought back the urge to tell William that ghosts weren’t real, so it didn't matter who had died and where. But saying that wouldn’t make William's fears go away, and it certainly wouldn’t make him feel any better about confiding in Victor. He decided to humor William about the ghost and get more information about his problem.

“How long has this been happening?” he asked.

“About a week or so? I noticed it just after my birthday.” William gasped. “Do you think that Henry’s candy gave me the ability to summon ghosts?”

Victor shook his head. “That was store-bought, mass-produced candy. I can guarantee you that it has no special properties, besides giving you a headache.”

William’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Then what could it be?” he asked. 

“I can look in your room now and find out,” Victor offered, already standing up. Maybe there was just a mouse or stray lizard that had made its home in William’s bookshelf.

“Looking now won’t work,” William insisted. “It's not like you'll hear anything. Ghosts only come out at night.”

Victor exhaled, baffled by the kid’s logic. “Fine, then. I’ll wait until the Sun’s set,” he agreed, thinking to himself, “There’s got to be a logical explanation to this.”

. . .

That night, after Victor helped clean up after dinner, he followed William upstairs. William took a seat at the foot of his bed and watched anxiously as Victor began inspecting the room, as though he were checking for monsters. First, he flattened himself to the floor and searched under the bed with a flashlight. Nothing but lint and a few crumpled candy wrappers. His next stop was the closet. When Victor opened the door, he was met with the cloudy eyes of William’s Build-a-Bear, boring into him like a murderous owl. The thing was even creepier than he remembered, slumped over like a marionette whose strings had been cut. 

Victor's lip curled in disgust, and he pushed the bear to the back of the closet, where a row of jackets mercifully obscured its face from view. “Hey, what did you name your Build-a-Bear, again?”

William shook his head. “I never decided. I just left the birth certificate blank, because I thought I'd come up with something later.”

Victor nodded, already pushing the strange toy from his mind, and continued his rounds of the room. Henry was right: The kid did have a lot of untouched books. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, William got bored and stepped out to brush his teeth, leaving Victor alone.

He was busy pulling at the corners of a rug when a dull thump sounded from somewhere behind him, followed by a muffled noise – a voice? Victor couldn’t quite make out the words, but they were low and resonant, as if they were spoken by a grown man - but no grown man Victor recognized. The sounds stopped as abruptly as they had begun, and Victor’s pulse quickened. There wasn’t a ghost in William’s room, he knew that for certain. But then, who or what had just spoken? 

Nothing around him appeared to have changed, and Victor guessed that the noise had come from William’s closet. Even though he had checked inside minutes earlier, Victor grabbed a heavy book as a weapon and prepared himself to open the door.

He flung it open in one swift motion and leapt back as something hairy collapsed at his feet. Then he inspected the thing more closely and exhaled in relief. It was just William’s Build-a-Bear. 

Victor picked the thing up distastefully by the ear and heard the voice-box’s pre-programmed words ring out: “Hello! What’s your name?” Victor shook his head and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see William re-entering the room.

“I think I found your ghost,” he announced. He held the bear out to William, whose eyes widened in surprise.

“The bear?”

Victor nodded. “The stuffing must not be evenly distributed after all. It fell forward in your closet, making a noise and activating its voice-box. Could this be what’s been bothering you at night?”

William held the bear carefully, his eyebrows furrowed as he considered its somber face. “Maybe,” he said slowly. He didn't sound convinced. 

“It’s been in here since your birthday, so the timeline matches up,” Victor continued. “And I’ll be honest: I’ve been getting bad vibes from that thing since you made it. Don't get me wrong, we did everything right while creating it. But something about its face just doesn’t sit well with me. It must be the design of the bear.”

“Is it bad if I say that he’s been creeping me out, too?” William laughed nervously. “I didn’t want to say anything, because I had so much fun making him with you. But I don’t like the way he stares at me. It feels as though he’s waiting for something. I’ve been keeping him in the closet ever since I brought him home.”

Victor was pleased that he and William were on the same page. “You know what, I can take the bear back to the store with me tomorrow. I’ll exchange it for something better.”

A smile spread across William’s face. “You can do that?”

Victor waved a hand dismissively. “Sure. And if they won’t let me return it, I’ll just use my employee discount and get you another one. You know, it’s not the stuffed animals that are expensive there. It’s all the accessories that get you.”


	5. Return to Build-a-Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor thinks the haunted bear is out of his life forever... But boy, is he wrong.

Before going to sleep, Victor placed the “haunted” bear in his backpack, so he wouldn’t forget to bring it in the morning. Then, he zipped up the entire bag and shoved it in a corner of his room where he knew it couldn’t get knocked over, no matter how lopsided the stuffed animal’s head was. He thought he heard some strange noises that night, but he chalked it up to leaves brushing against the window and what his father always liked to call “the house settling.” 

In the morning, Victor left for work and set the bear up as a display, replacing a much cuter stuffed animal: a less realistic bear with a pink heart for a nose and two perfectly polished brown eyes. 

Things calmed down after that. William was no longer bothered by strange noises in the middle of the night, and Henry encouraged Victor to finally work on his grad school applications. As with most things, once Victor sat down to work on them, he realized they weren’t as hard as he had expected them to be. 

It was another few weeks before the creepy bear crossed Victor’s mind again. He arrived at work and noticed there was something different about the window display: A Bulbasaur was now sitting where the cursed bear had been. 

Victor’s first thought was, “Since when has Build-a-Bear offered Pokémon plushies?” followed soon after by, “Is this allowed?” 

Then he realized what the Bulbasaur was replacing and decided to ask his co-worker where the last bear had gone. Victor wasn’t worried for the bear’s well-being. That haunted plushie could be scrapped for parts, for all he cared. But there was something ominous about its sudden disappearance, and Victor would feel much better when he knew where the thing had gone.

“I’m sure no one bought it,” insisted Victor, after describing the bear to his co-worker, a friendly guy named Robert Walton, who was always busy texting during work. “There are plenty of stuffed animals they could’ve chosen instead.” 

Walton looked up from his phone, fingers still flying rapidly across the keyboard, and shrugged. “The display was empty when I came in this morning. I replaced it with another toy.” Then, his fingers froze. “Do you think the bear could have come to life and run away? Will it come back seeking revenge?”

“You’ve been reading too many horror novels,” said Victor dismissively. “More likely than not, whoever was running the evening shift threw the bear away because they thought it was scaring off all the customers.” 

“I suppose you’re right," said Walton with a disappointed sigh. "But how cool would it be, to have a stuffed animal that could walk and talk and think for itself?”

“Pretty creepy, if you ask me. But I'll tell you what: If I ever run into a sentient Build-a-Bear, I'll send it your way.”

Victor was being sarcastic, but Walton seemed genuinely pleased as he grinned and said, “It’s a deal.” 

. . .

Later that week, Victor was in charge of the evening shift, which meant it was his job to close the shop. He wasn’t afraid of the dark or anything silly like that, but he had to admit, there was something unsettling about being inside the mall near closing time. Half the stores were barred up, the escalators were frozen in place, and the food court was empty save for a few janitors. Victor had a bus to catch in half-an-hour and wanted to leave the tomb-like place as soon as possible. Although he hated the hustle-and-bustle during the day, malls weren’t meant to be this silent. 

Somewhere toward the back of the store, a box fell down. Victor recognized the dull thump of cardboard. He paused by the light switch. Had one of his co-workers forgotten something? He listened closely and detected a faint shuffling noise. It almost sounded like footsteps, muffled by a shaggy carpet. 

Victor considered walking away then and there. After all, he had clocked out two minutes ago. His shift was over, and he could no longer be held accountable for whatever happened to the store in his absence. Unfortunately, Victor knew that logic wouldn’t stop his boss from firing him if it was discovered that someone had been locked inside the building on his closing night. 

Reluctantly, Victor took a deep breath and crept toward the back room. He liked to consider himself a master of stealth, but if he were being brutally honest, he had never been able to walk silently anywhere. In fact, he must have stepped in gum on his break earlier that day, because his shoes popped and squelched against the linoleum with every other step. 

When he reached the back room, Victor threw open the door and turned on the lights at the same time. He let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing there besides a toppled box and a small avalanche of unstuffed animals. Victor knelt down and began replacing the pelts in the box. He was almost finished when the door behind him slammed shut, and he heard a lock click into place.

Victor turned around in surprise, indignation flashing through him at the thought that he was being pranked. At first, he couldn’t see who had closed the door. Then, he heard a throat being cleared, and his gaze followed the source downward. He blinked in surprise as he recognized William’s horrific Build-a-Bear. 

The miserable thing was looking right at Victor, though it was hard to tell with its foggy marble eyes partially obscured by clumps of fur. 

“At long last, we meet again, my creator.” 

The voice, deep and resonant, was coming from the stuffed animal. Victor had worked with plenty of voice boxes in the past, and none of them sounded like that. This was a flawless imitation of human speech, without any of the usual garbled qualities of a Build-a-Bear product. And it fit in the bear’s throat about as well as a square lid on a round box. 

The bear continued, “I would have spoken with you sooner, but I wanted our conversation to be held in private, just the two of us. You see, I - ”

The bear was cut off as Victor threw the box he was holding. There was a comical squeaking noise as the bear was met with a wall of cardboard, flattening it to the ground. Victor’s aim wasn’t perfect, so the box glanced off the bear and broke open once again, the torrent of unstuffed plushies cascading onto the bear’s dazed form. 

Victor shook his head in disbelief. He knew he had stayed up late last night editing his grad school essays with Henry, but he was hardly sleep-deprived. Besides, during his undergrad, he had pulled plenty of all-nighters, and his exhaustion had never led to hallucinations before. Although, he supposed it made sense that his horrid job at Build-a-Bear would be the thing to finally make him snap. 

Victor poked at the pile of pelts with one shoe, hoping he had dispelled whatever hallucination had made the bear seem alive. He let out a sigh of relief, then froze as the pile began to tremble. A moment later, the bear broke the surface with one desperate paw. Victor recoiled as the stuffed toy clawed its way out from under the limp bodies of its brethren and stood up, shaking. Victor couldn’t tell if its paws were balled into fists or if that’s what they always looked like.

“So, first you abandon me, then you attempt to destroy me, O creator? That is cruel, even for you.”

“Yeah, uh… I’m going to go now.” 

Victor wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was certain it wasn’t real. Just like William’s ghost from a few weeks ago, there must be a logical explanation for the things Victor was experiencing. Perhaps he had fallen asleep on the job and was having a stress-induced nightmare. This definitely seemed like the weird sort of dream his subconscious would create. At any rate, the best thing Victor could do was to not engage with the bear and simply walk away. By ignoring the delusion, he would strip it of any power it held over him. 

Unfortunately, the bear had other plans. It stepped between Victor and the doorway and announced, “I forbid you to leave this room.”

Irritated by the bear’s presumptuousness, Victor stooped down and grabbed the toy by its left ear, the one without a voice box. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, tough guy?”

The bear growled, a low vibrato that belonged in the throat of a German Shepherd, and Victor dropped it in surprise. What the hell was wrong with this thing?

The bear hit the floor running and attached itself to Victor’s leg. The pressure was intense, like his bones were being pressed by a waffle iron. Victor yelped and shook his leg in a vain attempt to dislodge the bear. When that failed, he began banging the bear into the nearest shelving unit. It squeaked with every impact but didn’t seem to feel the pain or be deterred by it.

Finally, Victor shouted, “What's your problem? What do you want from me?”

The bear relaxed its grip somewhat and looked up at Victor with gritty marble eyes. “I want you to end the waking nightmare that is my existence. I never asked to be born, never asked to become a stuffed bear, and I certainly never asked to be doomed to this loneliness.”

Victor fumbled for a pair of scissors lying unattended. “You want me to end your existence? Sure thing. I can kill you no problem.” 

The creature growled again, and Victor’s grip on the scissors slackened involuntarily. “I am not asking you to end my life, Victor. In fact, I doubt you could if you tried. I may be small, but I can outpower and outmaneuver you, even in my sleep.” 

Victor wanted to protest, but it was true that he had all the muscles of a limp piece of spaghetti. 

The bear continued, “No, I wish only to have a companion in my misery. You see, you have made me hideous and unlovable by all humans. This form repulses even the best of them. When you returned me to this workshop of horror, I had hoped to find a companion among the shelves. But nothing here is alive but me, and I have come to the conclusion that only your touch can bestow life on miserable creatures such as myself.”

Victor frowned, hoping that he hadn’t sent dozens of children home with living teddy bears, who may or may not strangle them in their sleep. But there was no way Victor had brought swathes of plushies to life. He wasn’t even certain this one was truly alive. 

Yet if he entertained the possibility for just a moment… Then it made sense that the key ingredient must have been the genuine heart ceremony he performed for William’s birthday, in front of Henry, Elizabeth, and Justine. Victor had put his entire soul into that performance, and it was true that something had felt different about the bear that day.

The creature must have seen the glint in Victor’s eyes, for it remarked, “You know the special procedure, I am sure. Now, if you would be so kind as to perform it a second time to grant me the companion I deserve - ”

Victor cut the bear off. “Woah, woah, woah. What do you mean, the companion you deserve? I don’t owe you anything.”

“That is where you are wrong yet again, my dear creator. You owe me everything; yet I, in my generosity, am asking of you only one simple task. Make me a companion who will love me despite my appearance, and I will be out of your hair forever.”

Victor snorted. “Are you serious? Where would you two go? I hate to break it to you, but there’s no place in this world for sentient toys to live without catching somebody’s attention, no matter what Pixar might say. Besides, if the world ever found a talking teddy bear, they would dissect it first and ask questions later. Face it, the kindest thing I can do for you is to end your suffering here and now.” He snipped his scissors menacingly and prepared to strike.

But before he could move the scissors any closer, the bear pressed Victor’s leg so hard, he cried out. “Let me rephrase this: Make me a companion, or I will break first this leg, then the other. Perhaps I will even go for your arms while you are on the floor writhing in pain. You may have created me all those weeks ago, Victor, but now it is I who am giving the orders.”

Victor bristled with the indignity of it all. Even in a dream, he wasn’t strong enough to fend off a single stuffed animal. He sighed and resigned himself to the absurdity of his situation. Maybe if he did what the bear asked, he could wake up from this stupid nightmare.

“Fine,” muttered Victor. “I’ll make you a compatriot or whatever it is you want. Just let go of my leg and let me get this over with as quickly as possible, so I can go home and try to forget you ever existed.”


	6. The Second Heart Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under threat, Victor sets about creating a companion for William's haunted bear.

“Go on, Victor,” urged the bear.

“I feel stupid,” Victor complained. “I can't do this with you watching me.”

“Then I will look away.” The bear readjusted itself on the stool beside the stuffing machine, turning its back on Victor. It even mussed up the fur on its face, for good measure, so both its eyes were obscured. “There. I can no longer see.”

Victor scrubbed a hand across his face, wishing he could blot out this moment from his life entirely. “Whatever. Let's just get this over with. You’re holding the heart you picked out, right?”

The bear grunted in agreement.

“Now, close your eyes - or, uh, think about having them closed, I guess - and concentrate on your favorite thing in the world. Whatever makes you happiest.”

“Nothing makes me happy,” intoned the creature.

“Okay, calm down, edge lord. Pick something. Anything. It can be this creepy bear carcass you picked out, for all I care.” 

Victor looked disdainfully at the soon-to-be-stuffed animal William’s bear had chosen. It was colored like orange sherbet, with swirls of peach and lemon coating its short fur. It had a bright pink nose and those giant sparkly eyes that every plushie at CVS now sported. Victor thought they were the most unsettling things in the world and was always amazed that children liked them - and Justine, apparently. 

The creepiest part about the bear-to-be wasn’t its eyes, though. No, it was the outfit the other bear had chosen for it: a gauzy wedding dress, complete with a veil. What sort of power trip did William's bear think it was on, ordering Victor to create another sentient stuffed animal only to force that stuffed animal to be its wife? Creepy coercion aside, who would even want to be associated with, let alone married to, that violent sack of stuffing? 

Victor shook his head to clear it and tried to focus on the task at hand. The sooner he got this heart ceremony over with, the sooner he could send the newlyweds on their way and wake up from this bizarre nightmare. He cleared his throat and continued.

“Now that you’ve thought of something that doesn’t fill you with homicidal rage, I want you to hold the heart close to your chest. This will teach your companion kindness and understanding.”

The more Victor thought about it, the more unfair it was, the way this Build-a-Bear expected a creature that hadn’t yet been born to devote its entire life to another creature's sorry existence. What was even the point of making another bear that would be equally miserable and cast out of society? It was bad enough having one around causing havoc and trying to crush people's legs with its vice-like grip! Would this new bear have the same inexplicable strength? Or could Victor prevent that by changing the stuffing to skin ratio?

“Next, I want you to squeeze the heart as tight as you can. This will give your bear the strength to face you every morning.”

The creature growled in warning, so Victor quickly switched tracks.

“I mean, this will give it the strength to face the day - with you - every morning."

The bear settled down, and Victor let out a small sigh of relief. This was definitely the worst customer he'd ever dealt with - and the wretched thing wasn't even paying!

"And finally, give the heart a big kiss. Or, uh, nuzzle your nose against it or something. Whatever you stuffed animals do. This will ensure that your companion knows you love it unconditionally.” Victor held out one hand. “Now, give me the heart, and I’ll place it in the bear.”

The creature turned around to face Victor and hesitated. For a second, Victor thought the bear might change its mind and attack him again. Then, its shoulders loosened, and it passed Victor the heart, but not before whispering, “I do,” against the red scrap of fabric.

A vein in Victor's forehead throbbed. He grabbed the heart and pocketed it, not inside the sherbet bear's pelt but inside his own shirt pocket. “You know what, this got too weird too fast. What is your problem?”

The bear seemed genuinely shocked. “Excuse me?” it asked.

“You heard me. This isn’t some fantasy dress-up game we’re talking about. You want me to actually bring this thing to life, then you want to condemn it to an eternity of isolation from humanity - with you of all people?”

The bear began to growl again, but this time, Victor didn’t flinch. Instead, he picked up the sherbet bear pelt and said, “I’m calling it right now. We’re done here. I’m not animating this thing - or anything, ever again!” Victor flung the pelt onto the linoleum floor and stomped on it to prove his point.

He was still focused on his own shoe when the creature let out an earth-shaking battle cry and barrelled into his chest. The force knocked Victor clean to the ground, and he feared that the bear would go for his neck, to end their scuffle as quickly as it had started. But the stuffed animal was too busy trying to get a hold of Victor’s shirt pocket. It didn’t have fingers, so it was forced to use both its paws as a sort of pincer, pinching together the thin piece of fabric. Once it had locked on, it yanked, and the pocket tore off Victor’s shirt with a rip. The seams burst, the bear stumbled backward with the force of it all, and the heart flew over its head and skidded across the ground, where it came to rest several yards away.

Victor looked down at his ruined clothes and yelled, “Hey! Henry got me this shirt!” 

But the bear wasn't listening. It had turned around and was going after the discarded heart. Victor lunged as well, hoping his human-sized legs would propel him farther than the bear's stubby ones. Unfortunately, the creature had gotten a head start and reached the heart first. Victor plowed into it soon after, and they tumbled across the floor like a miniature hurricane. Victor’s thrashing legs sent several wire kiosks clattering to the ground, and his shoulders knocked into the large accessories shelf. The stand rattled but did not fall, and plastic sunglasses, hoof-like sandals, and miniature sun hats rained down upon them. 

“I will have a wife, even if I have to pry this heart out of your cold, dead hands!” roared the bear, latching onto Victor’s ankle so tightly, he feared something would crack. 

“You don’t deserve a wife until you learn some healthy coping mechanisms, sir!” yelled Victor as he grabbed a bear-sized umbrella and began beating the creature over the head with it. 

Victor paused mid-swing as a timid knock sounded at the door. He leaned back for a better angle and gasped when he recognized the face pressed against the glass, looking into the store with an expression of confusion and concern. 

It was Henry!

. . . 

Henry’s eyes widened as he noticed his boyfriend, on the floor of the darkened store, covered in small accessories, with his glasses knocked askew and his hair disheveled. The sign on the door said CLOSED, but Victor hadn’t locked it yet, so when Henry tried the handle, it gave easily beneath his touch. 

William’s bear took the opportunity to rend the heart from Victor’s grasp. Victor relinquished it easily, as all his attention shifted from the devil bear to his boyfriend. 

For a heartbeat, Victor was aware of the creature making a mad dash for the fallen sherbet bear. He considered running after it for the briefest of moments. Then Henry was at his side, pushing away the toy sunglasses and pulling Victor into an embrace. Victor felt all the tension leave his shoulders, and he leaned into Henry gratefully, as the nonsensical world around him finally righted itself.

With Henry's arms around him, Victor felt grounded in reality once again. He realized that he must be waking up from his strange nightmare at last. Thank goodness! He was sick and tired of having demonic plushies after him, threatening him to oversee bizarre marriage contracts and trying to crush his leg bones if he refused. What a relief to once again be an aspiring grad student whose questionable life choices worried his boyfriend every now and again.

“Victor, are you alright?" asked Henry. "What happened? Did someone attack you? Do I need to call Elizabeth?”

Victor shook his head and pulled back from the hug, feeling calm and refreshed. “I’m fine,” he promised, and he genuinely believed it, now that Henry was here. He reached for his boyfriend's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t believe the weird dream I just had. I thought it would never end." He glanced around at the ruined accessories aisle. "And I guess I was sleep-walking or something? But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been.”

Henry tilted his head. “A weird dream, you say?”

"Yeah. Remember William’s creepy Build-a-Bear, the one from his birthday? In my dream just now, it was alive, and it wanted me to make it a companion - or else.”

“A companion?" Henry echoed. "Like… an orange sherbet bear?”

Victor frowned. “How’d you know that?”

Henry pointed at the back of the store, and Victor followed his gaze to where William's Build-a-Bear was dragging the limp form of something orange-and-pink to the stuffing machine.

“What the hell!” Victor tried to stand up, but winced as soon as he put pressure on his left leg, the one the bear had so fiercely attached itself to earlier. “What is this, Scooby Doo and the Cyberchase? I’m still in the dream!”

Henry stood up with him, supporting his left side, and said, “I’m pretty sure this is real, Victor. I finished my shift at Brookstone's a few minutes ago and heard a bunch of loud noises coming from this store. I wasn’t sure if you were still here, but I had to make sure just in case, and…” He gestured vaguely with his free hand as if to say, “The rest is history.”

Victor pressed a hand to his own forehead, in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “I don’t understand… Toys don’t just come to life. This is impossible.”

“We can decide if it’s possible or not later. What do we need to do right now?”

Victor floundered for a few moments, unsure of himself and his entire reality. Then, he looked toward the back of the shop and remembered how much he hated that cursed Build-a-Bear. He balled his hands into fists and said, “We need to stop that wedding!”


	7. The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Henry work together to take down the bear. But can they maintain a united front?

“Don’t let it get to the creation station!”

Victor was so caught up in the heat of the moment, he didn't care how ridiculous the name sounded.

Henry nodded and, once he made sure Victor could stand on his own, ran to intercept the renegade Build-a-Bear. 

Victor hobbled after him and yelled, “Don’t pick it up, Henry! It has a killer grip!”

Henry aimed a soccer kick for the bear’s head. Unfortunately, he missed by half-a-foot, lost his balance, and fell over backward, collapsing like an unstable Jenga tower. The impact made Victor wince, but Henry immediately called out, “I’m okay!”

“Nice try," snarled the bear, "but your uncoordinated boyfriend cannot stop me from successfully animating my wife! Now that I have the heart you created, all she requires is stuffing to be complete!”

“His wife?” echoed Henry, rubbing his head as he sat up. “That's kind of cute.”

“No! Not cute!” Victor reached Henry’s side and helped him to his feet. “Do not fall for the creature’s mind games! It’d be a terrible husband, I just know it!”

“How do you know, if you’ve never given me a chance?” retorted the bear, who was halfway up the stuffing machine. It could have gone faster, had it not been dragging the limp sherbet bear pelt behind it.

“Yeah, wait a second, Victor. How do we know that?”

Victor stared at his boyfriend in disbelief. “Are you seriously taking the stuffed toy’s side here?” He wondered how badly Henry had hit his head when he fell. Could a concussion be clouding his judgment?

Henry held up his hands placatingly. “All I’m saying is, I just got here; I don't have the full story. The least I can do is hear this little guy out, right? He's probably been through a lot these past few weeks."

“Finally, a human around here who makes some sense,” muttered the bear. He set the sherbet bear down and turned to greet Henry more formally. “You are Victor’s bride, yes?”

“Uh-”

“Well-” 

Henry and Victor started to correct the bear at the same time, but it left no room for debate. “Then you must understand the situation I am in. For Victor to threaten my bride's life is like me threatening yours.” The bear paused, humming thoughtfully, then turned to Victor. “Would that work, if I threatened to kill him instead of you?”

“Over my dead body!” yelled Victor, planting himself between Henry and the bear. 

He could swear the bear was grinning maliciously as it said, “That could be arranged.”

Victor was ready to pummel the stuffed toy into oblivion, but Henry held him back with a steady hand. "It's alright, Victor. No one’s dying tonight, so let’s not blow this out of proportion. Mr. Bear, you want a companion, right? Someone to keep you company?”

The bear dipped its head. “Indeed, rational one. I told Victor that I would leave forever on the condition that I receive a companion, a creature such as myself, who could share with me my daily toils.”

Henry touched a hand to his heart and nudged Victor encouragingly. “See? Now that’s not so bad. What’s your take on this?”

Victor shrugged off Henry's arm. “My take, Henry, is that this bear needs to be reduced to the stuffing whence it came! It is not the victim here, so don't let it fool you into feeling bad for it! Did you forget that it tormented William for days, trapped me in the back room just now, and probably broke my ankle with its pincer-like paws? It must be punished!”

Henry sighed. “Look, I understand your point, and I see that you’re hurting. But consider: He’s literally a stuffed bear. He can’t be that bad.”

“Cast its heart into the flames!”

The bear crossed its arms and pouted. “You see the obstinacy my creator displays? Why must I be expected to show decorum when he denies me my very right to live?”

“He’s got a point, Victor. All he's asking for is a friend, and you're talking about murdering him!”

Victor could tell that the bear was silently gloating, probably proud of itself for taking advantage of Henry's trusting nature. Victor clenched his teeth. He couldn't take it anymore. He lunged forward to rip that smug expression off the bear's face, but Henry held him back once again, this time with both arms.

“Hey, stop that! Let’s treat this situation like adults." He turned Victor around to face him. "We’re all adults here, right?”

The bear raised one paw. “I am less than one month old,” it declared.

Henry’s mouth drew into a thin line, and he paused. “Well, that’s probably an adult in stuffed bear years, right? Let’s approach this situation with calm and clear minds. Drop the scissors, Victor.” 

Victor couldn't even remember when he had picked them up. He grumbled a little but complied, passing the scissors to Henry, who slipped them carefully into his jacket's inner pocket. 

“Now, let’s negotiate and figure out a way for us to all go home happy.”

Both the bear and Victor began to speak, but Henry beat them to it, “And we are not negotiating murder.” 

The two fell silent, glowering at one another.

. . .

“There’s no way in hell I’m bringing another stuffed toy to life!” Victor insisted. "Don't you see how inconvenient even one of these little devil spawn is?"

“Well, I refuse to stop tormenting you until you grant me a companion!”

“Mr. Bear - er, what’s your name?” asked Henry.

“I was given no name so am doomed to wander the wastes of this world a broken shell of a bear - ”

“He doesn’t deserve a name, your honor,” Victor interjected. “He’ll be equally miserable with or without one.”

“ - but I will take the name of my wife, once she is brought to life,” the bear concluded, and Victor sniggered.

“Oh, a feminist!” 

Henry elbowed Victor, who melted into a puddle of laughter at his own joke. He was feeling fairly delirious at this point. He could no longer convince himself that this was a dream. The pain in his ankle felt so real, and Henry was so... Well, Henry. Victor couldn't be imagining him; otherwise, this would be a very different type of fantasy. The most logical solution was that Victor had fully lost his marbles, and part of him was ready to embrace that. 

“Come on, that was funny!” Victor protested.

Henry ignored him, fighting to stay focused on the bear. “You need a companion, right?”

The bear nodded.

“Does it have to be another stuffed bear? What if we found you, I don’t know, a nice human child to look after you?”

“That thing nearly killed me, and you want to send it off with a five-year-old?” asked Victor, aghast. "I don't like children, but even I wouldn't subject a kid to this thing." 

“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating? I mean, look at him, he’s just a wittle guy!”

“No, I nearly killed him,” confirmed the bear. 

Henry's smile faltered. “Huh. Well, okay, so children are out of the question. But what if we found someone responsible to take care of you, another adult who knew what they were doing and agreed to be your friend, faults and all?”

The creature considered this. “I suppose it wouldn’t be the end of the world if that were to happen…”

“Yeah, but who in their right mind would agree to care for this ugly sack of potatoes? I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“Victor!” said Henry reproachfully. “He’s practically your child!”

“Uh, last I checked, William was the one who adopted him! If anyone's the father here, it's certainly not me.”

“Well, maybe I could -”

“No, Henry, please. Do not adopt this bear. I will self-combust if you decide to adopt this bear.”

Henry deflated a little. “What about Ernest? They’ve never interacted before, so it could be a surprisingly good match.”

Victor made a sour face. “Nope. That thing’s not getting anywhere near my house ever again.”

“Then, what about Justine? She loves Build-a-Bears. She and Elizabeth could take good care of him. They're the most stable couple I know."

Victor shook his head. “No way. Nuh-uh. Then it would become my nephew or something, which is just as creepy. Whoever takes this bear needs to have no connection with me whatsoever!”

Henry scowled. “That’s a little unreasonable, don’t you think? How could we possibly ask someone we don’t know at all to take care of this bear?”

Victor shrugged. “We could always post an ad on Craigslist. Or we could stick it on the curb with a sign that says, ‘Haunted Bear: Please Adopt.’ Someone’s bound to take it eventually.”

“I will not allow myself to be demeaned or pawned off to this sketchy Craig person.” The bear held up its paws when it said the name Craig, as though it were trying to put the name in quotation marks.

“Well, it’s not like I know anyone who would ask for a magical talking bear!” said Victor crossly. He glared at the creature as though his eyes alone could cut through its ragged fur and destroy it once and for all. Then, a thought pulled at the corner of his mind, like a distant memory. He said nobody he knew would be interested in a living stuffed animal, but... That wasn't entirely true, was it?

“Oh my god,” Victor mumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Henry.

Victor looked up at Henry, and their eyes met. “I know who to ask.”


	8. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face shows up to save the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter! Thanks to everyone reading this for sticking with me until the end. I really appreciate it and hope you enjoyed reading this AU as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

“Is it safe to come in, guys?” came a voice from the front of the store. 

“Yes, Walton, your haunted bear awaits,” Victor called back. He exchanged a look with Henry that meant, “Can you believe this guy is stupid enough to willingly involve himself in this?” 

Henry shook his head in disapproval, condemning Victor’s quickness to judge and his white-hot vendetta against the stuffed bear.

Walton stepped carefully around a toppled accessories stand that Victor had yet to put upright. When his eyes fell on William’s former toy, he gasped.

“Now, I know he’s a little ugly,” began Victor.

“Are you kidding? He’s perfect!” Walton knelt down before the bear and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir! Or ma'am? Victor referred to you as an 'it' when he texted me, but I'll use whichever set of pronouns you like best. The name’s Robert, but most of my friends call me Walton. I use he/him pronouns." 

The bear reached for Walton's hand, and Victor bit his lower lip, half-expecting the bear to fling his co-worker to the side like a rag doll. But they shook hands civilly, and the bear muttered a few nervous formalities.

“So, what’s your name?” Walton asked.

The bear shrugged, scuffling its feet, and Walton turned an accusing look on Victor.

“You didn’t give this little ray of sunshine a name?”

Both Victor and the bear looked up at that, startled. Even Henry blinked a little in confusion. Was Walton seeing the same stuffed animal? 

Walton scooped up the bear beneath the arms, and Victor held his breath, expecting the worst. Yet the bear submitted itself to Walton’s inspection without complaint.

“Look at the poor guy: Covered in dust, with his fur uncombed. No wonder he showed up past closing time to haunt you, Victor! He just needs some TLC.” He thumbed several curlicues of fur out of the bear’s eyes. “There. Isn’t that better already? You can see!” He squinted at the clouded marbles. “Well, maybe not quite. But we can polish those later, if you’d like.”

“Walton,” Henry cut in. “Are you sure you’re alright taking this bear home with you? We have no idea how it came to life or what’ll happen to it in the future. It could be capable of anything.”

Walton grinned. “Isn’t that exciting? Limitless potential, is what this little friend has!" He set the bear back down on the linoleum. "Besides, I’ve always wanted something like this to happen to me. You know, something you’d read about in a novel or see in a movie theater? I talk about these sorts of things all the time with my sister. She thinks I dream too much, but I say anything's possible if you set your mind to it. And thanks to you, Victor, I can finally be part of an exciting story! There's nothing I'd like more."

“Even if that story ends with you dead in a ditch?” muttered Victor.

The bear's growl, all too familiar now, began to build in its throat. Then, the creature seemed to check itself and took a steadying breath. “Victor, do you really think I would hurt Walton? He is the first person to show me genuine and unflinching kindness in my entire life, brief as it may be thus far.” It darted a glance at Henry. “I’ll admit, Henry has been decent, as well. But the fact that he’s coupled himself with you leaves his entire character suspect. Walton, at the very least, is only your co-worker. He has no choice but to know you.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Victor dryly.

“Don’t worry, Victor,” assured Walton with a smile. “I like being your co-worker! And the fact that you decided to call me, of all people, in your hour of need...” He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “It means a lot to me, buddy.” 

Victor looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t bring that thing to work with you ever, okay? I’m done looking at its ugly mug.”

The bear snarled and pointed at Victor with one meatball-shaped paw. “Don’t forget, I know where you live.”

. . .

That night, Walton took the cursed bear home with a smile, and Victor almost thought that the creature looked less gloomy than normal. Henry stayed with Victor to clean up the scattered debris of the store, although Victor insisted that his boyfriend was not to pick up a single broom or stray accessory. It took the better part of an hour to put everything back in its place, and Henry spent the time distracting Victor with idle chit chat about the customers he had to deal with.

"It's no Build-a-Bear, I'm sure, but it can be pretty awful," said Henry, and Victor smiled despite himself.

He liked hearing Henry talk and would let him ramble on about Brookstone's for hours. Yet Victor knew that they never could truly compare jobs until something like a toaster came to life and tried to coerce Henry to make it a bride - or any other sort of spouse. Speaking of spouses, Victor still didn't understand why William's old Build-a-Bear was so steeped in heteronormativity. Hadn't it learned anything from its week in the Frankenstein household?

When the store finally closed up for the night, Henry made sure Victor got home safely, then helped him draft a resignation letter the next day. If Victor had learned anything from the past month, it was that no minimum-wage job was worth this much pain - both physical and emotional.

He didn’t follow up with Walton too much. On the rare occasions they saw one another, Victor made sure to talk about anything other than the wretched bear. But Walton was still alive, and he looked more upbeat and bright-eyed than usual, so something must have gone right between those two. Victor decided he didn’t care to know what it was.

He had destroyed the heart he prepared for the creature's wife and had cleaned up the sherbet pelt before putting it back with the rest of the store's inventory. Victor waited anxiously for Walton to tell him that a customer had come to complain about their murderous plushie, but such a text never arrived, and Victor was left to conclude that his days of animating stuffed toys were officially in the past. Even William’s replacement Build-a-Bear never uttered so much as a peep, and Victor wouldn't want it any other way.


End file.
